


The Letter

by HolyTrinityStudios



Category: Bee Movie (2007), Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF, Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Bulges, Collab, Collaboration fic, Edging, Erections, Green Goblin - Freeform, Heroes, M/M, Music battle, Other, Puppy Play, Sort of Violence, Thinking Bee, Villains, Violence, a lot of weird references, ambiguous ending, bare feet, bee puns, big dick energy, crucifildo, cum, dildo jazz, dildo tamborine, dildorino clapper, erections are everywhere, hunchback of notredame, incredibly sexual, jazz battle, keanu reeves is jesus, keanu reeves is sorta wholesome, many mentions of cum, soles, spongebob reference, toes, train station fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22278739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyTrinityStudios/pseuds/HolyTrinityStudios
Summary: A rag-tag group of intrepid travellers each receive a mysterious letter from an unknown source. An epic adventure ensues, each person discovering the true meaning of love and of Christmas in the process. Their journey only to be moulded by the hands of pure evil, it is up to the group to reach past conflict and come together as one to defeat the powers of darkness, and triumph as a band of handsome, righteous brothers.
Relationships: Elton John/Taron Egerton
Kudos: 2





	The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This was a collaboration between The Father and The Son. Uploaded by The Holy Ghost.

Barry B Benson lifted a fuzzy black arm, peering at his watch.

_11.27. Three more minutes_.

He whipped his bandana out of his pocket and mopped the sweat from his bee-brow. The fluorescent lights of the station hummed above him and he felt his stinger twitch in anticipation. He knew something was about to come but he still had no idea what is to happen, he begins to sweat a bit more, he almost feels nervous but it's Barry fucking B Benson, he's not afraid.

And, then, a crunch on the gravel behind him. He spins about to see… him.

The Rocketman himself. Elton. John.

“You like jazz, you stripey motherfucker?”

Barry stares at the homo erotic 4 eyed nerd and responds with "I don't like jazz, I love it, and if I don't love it, I don't….swallow."

Elton Is shocked that this yellow fucking dot on the ground can speak and knows he's gay, but maybe he knew because of the sexy revealing peacock outfit he was wearing but forgot to take it off before his midnight fuckening with the Verminator.

Barry, though admittedly dazzled by the splendour of the peacock outfit, manages to reach into his tiny bee pocket and pulls out his expandable saxophone, which gleams under the station lights. “How about we have a little… jazz-off?”

Elton John gives off an insane turn around with a maniacal laugh, he prolongs the laugh a few seconds longer than he should which would normally leave most people uncomfortable but Barry feels no fear and is fueled by courage and fresh pollen from the local blue flowers with red thorns. After Elton wipes away his fake tears from his hysterical laugh, Barry looks on unphased and then responds with "Are you finished? Or are you stalling?" 

Elton quickly spawns into a position as if using an invisible piano but one leg is raised perfectly in the air vertically, revealing the large bulge between his legs. He is clearly turned on. Elton replies, "Don't make me get my winter platform boots, you little squirm". 

“You think your electric boots will scare me? Think again, fucker!”

Barry and Elton started to edge closer to one another, their feet kicking up dust. Elton’s gyrations began to increase in violence. His bulge was growing second by second, turning the crotch of his sequined leggings into a disco ball. Barry, dizzy at the sight of it, was on the verge of a trance when another voice interjected.

Barry looks over his shoulder and spots a figure, he can't make out who it is yet. A throaty smokers like laugh as if the joker with throat cancer came from the figure, just before Barry knew it, the fucking goblin glider jets past from the opposite side of them only just missing Elton and Barry even though Barry had no chance of getting hit since he's a fucking yellow dot. 

The figure jumps on the glider and slowly approaches them both with his arms crossed. His wide-ass gremlin mouth grows wider until it seems like his face is on the verge of splitting in two. He leaps from the glider, throwing it over the entirety of Ringwood station. A faint yelp is heard, but our three heroes pay it no mind. There was serious business afoot.

Elton gasps like a gay and says to himself, "My flamboyancy is being challenged, I need some backup." 

He slaps his thigh three times and whistles to the sky as if calling a dog. Taron Egerton sprints in on all fours butt naked with a metal chain attached to a pink spiked collar tight around his neck barking. Elton takes hold of the chain, yanking Taron in tight against him.

“My hound. He has arrived. Prepare to get fucked.”

“Guys, please! We don’t have to do this! Can’t we just be friends?” comes a plaintive voice from the shadows. The group, stopping in their tracks, whirls around as one to face the source. Out from the shadow of a half-destroyed fridge steps Keanu Reeves, his raven locks moving gently, despite the lack of breeze. He was breathtaking.

All turn to gaze into Keanu's beautiful maple syrup coloured eyes. It was like staring into the sun. The group seemed to forget there was even conflict to begin with. Keanu walks towards them with open arms as if walking towards them from the steps of heaven, a light conveniently beams down on him following his path, people on the streets witnessing the event start mistaking him for Jesus Christ, little did they know Keanu Reeves IS Jesus, Jesus Christ just being his Xbox Gamertag. 

All eyes were glued to his long, nimble fingers as he undid the buttons on his coat with agonising slowness of antici…...pation. He shrugged it off casually, revealing his long, linen robes beneath. They seemed almost iridescent in the light, but Barry got the sense that the iridescence was emanating from the pure white energy at Keanu’s core. His goodness washed over the station with all the force of a tsunami, gathering all the syringes and used condoms and collecting them into a single, pulsing mass that hovered in the sky. The force of Keanu’s light crushed the filth and depravity into a fist-sized, glittering cube. Keanu lifted an elegant hand, drawing the cube towards him. He produced a reusable bag from one of the folds of his robe, dropping it in before nestling the bag back into his clothing.

“Had to pick up a few groceries on the way, y’know.”

The group nodded at him, transfixed. They all simultaneously kneeled before him but before their knees hit the ground, Keanu stopped them in their tracks, "There is no need for that, I am not a god but an essence of light, a light which guides my disciples to true wisdom". Willem, Barry, Elton and Taron fall back on their attempt to kneel but before Taron stands up Elton puts his hand over his head pleading him to get back down, Taron whimpers like a puppy to then hold onto Daddy Eltons leg while on the ground like a homeless boy at Flinders Street station begging for some bread. 

Elton pushes his glasses back up his sweat-slicked nose, perpetually on the verge of orgasm in the presence of Keanu’s pure, unadulterated light of being. The sequins of his unitard are quivering, falling to the dusty ground. 

Willem looks around and begins to question the situation, "Why are we even here, I spent 38 hours gliding this thing to Australia not knowing what the outcomes were to be". Whilst Taron is gradually speeding up his humping process on Eltons leg, Barry and Taron look at each other in confusion remembering they were about to have an epic Jazz off battle but not knowing why the fight started, everyone starts scratching their heads in confusion.

Keanu then intervenes everyone's confusion and asks the simple question of "who brought everyone here?", Barry is quick to respond but this startled Keanu "oh fuck me, a talkin-" he cuts himself off quickly "Im sorry but I did not realise you were a bee that could speak but thats my fault for not thinking bee enough, please, continue what you were going to say" he responded calmly. 

Barry then pulls out a letter explaining he will be meeting people outside Ringwood station at 12o'clock sharp and that a great reward is involved, at the bottom of the page has a complex signature that's hard to make out. Keanu whips a monocle out from his sleeve and squints through its lens at the page. He sees the intricate script and gasps, his monocle dropping to the ground. He stumbles back in horror, a multitude of items spilling from his robes. He trips over a rolled up yoga mat and scrabbles in the dirt.

“Do you know who that signature belongs to?”

The group shake their heads in unison, Taron’s collar jingling. 

“I almost can’t bear to speak his name. He-he’s too powerful.”

Barry works up the courage to ask. “Oh, Keanu, who could it be?”

“Oh, gods. It’s…”

A crack of thunder rents the heavens and Keanu’s sentence in two, and a voice booms across the station.

“FROLLO, MOTHERFUCKERS!” instantly after, an invisible choir chants the melody to "Hellfire" followed by the lyrics of "be mine or you will buuuuurn"

His big dick energy proves too much for the group to handle, the extreme power of Frollo’s sexual frustration sending even Keanu skittering across the ground like crumpled paper. He appears in the sky, his eyes aflame, his robes whipping around his form. He holds a staff, his knuckles straining and white with the effort.

“YOU PATHETIC CUCKS THOUGHT YOU WERE TO RECEIVE A REWARD, DIDN’T YOU? FOOLS! ALL OF YOU!” 

The group look at each other with fear except for B Benson as he has no fear, Barry looks down at his very Bee-ish hands and hears a faint voice from his head "thinking bee", he looks back up to Frollo and takes a few steps forward towards Frollo and attempts to get his attention

"Hey, fuck you, you fuckin Catholic lanky old cunt, we challenge you to a Jazz off!" 

Frollo flies down towards Barry's general direction morphing into a black figured shadow like wraith with glowing eyes. Landing gracefully on the ground and simultaneously morphing back to normal he hovers over to Barry looking around not being to find where the voice came from.

"Who ever said those pathetic yet slightly arousing offensive words to me, speak out because I'm severely turned on right now and I'd rather not be intervened in my new sexual awakening.” 

Before Barry attempts to speak up, Keanu perks up at Barry’s suggestion. Though his face is smeared with the station filth, his beauty shines through and he rummages through his robes. He pulls out an oboe.

“Let me see if I can remember how to play this thing. You with us, boys?”

The rest of the group lets out a triumphant cheer, and, one by one, find their own instruments. Elton, his invisible piano. Taron, his castanets. Willem, his trombone. Barry, his expandable saxophone also known as his stinger.

Frollo then responds in song with "Fuck! FUCK! Fuuuuuck!! The Catholic code prevents me, from declining a Jazz off challenge, what's the terms, what's the catch" 

Elton replies in song "if we win, you must take your wrinkly ass back to hell" in tune of "Without Question" from 'Road to El Dorado'

Frollo responds "What if I win?"

"Then you can sexually abuse us all you want" he unconfidently replies

Frollo strokes his flakey old wrinkly crusted old oily layered neck with his long skeletal like scrawny achy fingers.

"Sounds like a deal, I have plans for that sexy dog of yours" Frollo eagerly says.

A voice off to the side quickly shouts "A, 1, 2, 3, 4" 

Taron, ever devoted to his master, plays a little riff on his castanets. Willem, with a little flourish, sounds off a warning arpeggio on his trombone. It seems to ruffle Frollo’s feathers somewhat, and he’s taken aback by the power and camaraderie of this motley crew. Sure of his power still, he shakes out his mass of dusty black robes, revealing the weapon he’d been hiding all along. At first, it looked like a tambourine, though a strange one. As Frollo pulled it fully from his robes, the group gasped.

“This, fuckers, is my Dildorino Clapper. Kneel in its presence or suffer His wrath.”

The group, terrified, had no choice but to comply. The Clapper, once an ordinary tambourine, had been misshapen terribly, its jingle jangles removed and replaced with nearly a dozen enormous, shiny, slick black dildos. The largest was near Frollo’s hand, it being shaped like a cross. He followed Barry’s eyes, which were locked on the Crucifildo.

“That one I’m saving especially for you, my stripey little pervert.” 

Frollo raised the Clapper high above his head and gave his wrist a triumphant flick, sending the infernal instrument a-chattering. The noise it gave was a horrid moist slickety slapping sound which then echoed into chants as if from a cathedral followed by large heavy distant church bells. A ghostly choir appeared behind him, their own mini Dildorino Clappers joining in the cacophony, raising it to unbearable heights.

Willem, having dropped his precious trombone, had covered his ears. “I can’t take this anymore Barry, I really can’t.”

Barry placed a tiny, soothing bee-hand on Willem’s quaking shoulder. “Be strong, my sweet, kind goblin man. His evil will not defeat us. You forget - we have Lord Keanu on our side.”

Willem turned to look for their leader, dismayed to find that he too was cowering under the almighty power of Frollo’s Dildorino Dirge. 

Meanwhile in a far far distant land of B Grade Action films sits a squinty chub boi at a cafe sipping his black honey tea whilst still in his Judo uniform. He lightly sips his hot beverage when suddenly he hears a faint chanting noise followed by slickety wet slapping noises, he looks off to the side and lets out a breath “typical, I hear the sound of a Dildorino Clapper used by a rapey priest in the suburbs, or just a shit hole at that.” he says to himself. 

The waiter turns to him and bluntly says “Can I have my fuckin tip now, sir? Or are you gonna keep talking to yourself like a cunt?”, the mysterious squinted man turns to him and lightly taps a $5 note on the young waiters chest which escalates to him tearing a hole through his rib cage dropping the note into his fucking organs, the waiter dies instantly and the man is unphased he just accidently slaughtered the young guy.

The Judo man stands up and walks up to a taxi and requests a lift to Ringwood Station.

During that time Frollo is getting so fucking turned on at the sight of him winning this Jazz battle using slickety moist slapping noises against actual musicianship. His robes can barely contain his magnum dong, and though the group (Taron’s castanet skills are particularly noteworthy) are putting up the fight of their lives, they all know they can’t hold out forever. Frollo’s choir are playing their own Dildorinos with increased fervour and lust for their leader, knowing that his impending climax will sound the death knell for the universe itself.

Just then a sudden change in the wind turned, the clouds began to form in an unnatural way, the chants of the clappers begin to fade off and all starts to get quiet, too quiet. The clouds begin to form, ambient electric guitars strum along the sky like thunder replicating the intro to Welcome to the Jungle by GnR’s. Everyone even Frollo look at each other in confusion when all of the sudden a beam of lighting come down from the sky and its a mangle yellow taxi with a corpse hanging out of the windscreen and a big bulky man pierced through the taxi vertically unscratched.  
  
Frollo looks on in shock,

“Who the fuck are you?” he says angrily due to his erection loosening 

The mysterious Judo dressed man lifts his arms gently which instantly crumbles the entirety of the taxi and the corpse of the taxi driver is flung across Ringwood station like a ragdoll, splattering against the pavement. A slow heavy riff begins to play while the man stands there squinting directly at Frollo, he never blinks and shows zero emotion. 

“My name isn’t important, you geriatric soyboy cuck! There I was sipping my black honey tea at my favourite cafe and then I hear the sound of the forbidden instrument, causing me to lose my appetite for the evening. I had left over garlic pizza at home, now that will go to waste”

Frollo seems to fold in on himself, the power of his choir’s song dying off under the sheer weight of the stranger’s presence. His pizza’s gone cold, and he’s pissed.

The judo man turns to face the group as if seeing them for the first time. He’s confused. A filthy Keanu Reeves cosplaying as Jesus. Willem Dafoe in a skintight green leotard. Elton John in a fucking peacock outfit, with some sort of naked man-dog whimpering at his feet. And a bee. 

“I mean, I thought this Jesus-fucker was bad. What’s up with you sorry pieces of shit?”

The only one with enough strength to respond is Barry. Weakly, he says, “the power of his dildo jazz was too strong. We couldn’t hold out. Please, you have to help us.” 

With that, Barry collapses, Keanu managing to catch him as he falls, cradling him tenderly in the palm of his angelic Canadian hand. 

Barry is still conscious, but barry-ly. “Keanu?”

“Yes, my dear, dear friend?”

“Thank you fo-for always substituting maple syrup for honey. Us bees appreciate you.”

“No...I appreciate you.”  
  
Barry smiles up at Keanu and Keanu smiles back. Keanu then stands up and sews a pocket on his top for Barry to sit in like a hammock and offers him a brew of mini honey mead in a mini glass wine bottle accompanied by a tiny wine glass. Amongst his collection of Barbie clothes (sorted carefully into era, then colour-coordinated), Keanu finds a snazzy pair of sunglasses and places them gently on Barry’s tiny fuzzy face. He also locates a fine selection of Hawaiian shirts.

“Hmm, what would you say is his colour season, Elton? I’d say he’s a Winter.”

“No, no. Spring. Definitely Spring.”

“Oh, dear me. You’re right. Here, Barry, put this one on. At least you’ll be able to _feel_ as though you’re on a white, sandy beach, the sound of the waves lapping lazily at the shore sending you off into a peaceful slumber.” Keanu rocks Barry gently to bee-sleep in his hand-sewn pocket bed. Soon enough, Barry is snoring away quietly.

Elton nearly tears up while stepping on Taron and Taron huffing like a dog in excitement. Willem looks on at Keanu's splendid display in hospitality and care but Keanu has forgotten about what’s still at large.

The Judo man has still not shown any sign of blinking, he still continues to stare directly at Frollo and he still continues to intimidate everyone in the area, even bystanders of Ringwood are shook, some masturbating even some already committing suicide. 

"I've had enough of this" the Judo man approaches Frollo.

Frollo immediately starts shitting himself and trying out different tunes with the Clapper, Judo is unphased and keeps slowly approaching. Frollo then grabs another Clapper in the opposite hand and plays more tunes and melodies. Judo still ignoring the slickety slapping noises of the horrid instruments, Frollo then plugs the Dildorino Clappers into 10 Marshall stacks behind him to amplify the slickety slapping power. Frollo then began to play a medley of tunes, harmonies and melodies of all sorts with the Clappers. 

Judo man still unphased keeps on walking towards Frollo, the power of the amps is pushing him back a little bit so Frollo turns up the amps all the way up to volume 11, the sound waves emitting from the amps are so strong it's causing the Judo man to get pushed away. This only angers the Judo man so he stops walking and grabs the concrete ground he flips the ground itself to cause a wave effect directly at Frollo which causes more damage than a tsunami, the amps ping up into the air passing the o zone in an instant, Frollo is tossed to the side landing face first into the pavement.

Judo walks right up to Frollos frail elderly body lying on the hard ground.

"You know I don't appreciate those who die trying" he whispers into Frollos ear.

Frollo turns himself over to gaze upon the giant gut of the God like man standing over him. The judo man, his enormous fucking stomach blocking out almost all light on Earth, kicks Frollo in his ancient, fragile stomach, instantly vaporising him and his choir. A faint distant church bell rings off far away. 

Barry looks upon his watch "it's 12:00". The others gaze upon the clouds unforming in the sky, the clearest of days reveals itself to the world.

“Frollo is now dead, for good. Something a deformed hunched over cunt could never accomplish” Elton John remarks pulling Taron towards him with eager force of aggression. Taron whimpers, half-terrified, half unbelievably fucking turned on.

The Judo Man claps the dust off his hands, satisfied in his destruction. He whips a tiny mirror compact out of his back pocket, peering into it to fuss with his hair. The group, incredulous, gazes at him in awe. Taron, though humping Elton’s leg with increasing intensity, throwing his chain about with an insistent jingle, is staring at the Judo Man’s impressive, towering figure, pure lust in his doggy eyes. 

Barry is still nestled safely away in Keanu’s pocket. Keanu, not wishing to rouse the gentle bee, gracefully hovers towards the Judo man, offering out his hand in gratitude “Thank you, kind stranger, for your actions have saved us from getting sexually destroyed by that scrawny skeletal fossilised freak.”  
  
Judo man raises one eyebrow “saved? I was merely avenging my cold rotten Pizza I was meant to eat tonight but I have lost my appetite and the sight of that grotesque bastard might have me starving all week.” 

“Oh, goodness me! You must keep your strength up, for without your power the world will surely plunge into sexually depraved darkness forever! What ever can we do to repay you?”

“You could pay for my Uber here, you fucking pansy-ass freaks - some crusty geriatric fuck boy is not nearly enough reason for me to waste my valuable time, and my valuable pizza.”

Keanu is momentarily taken aback, but he nods his head. “Of course, of course. C’mon boys, what have we all got to give to the nice man?”

Elton and Willem, both wearing skin-tight bodysuits, aren’t carrying more than a few coins between them. Barry finds a few honey capsules and half a Monopoly note. Keanu has currency from every country folded intricately into a paper doll chain, which he unfurls ceremoniously from his left sleeve, sorting through each painstakingly crafted doll.

It’s Taron, however, who is most surprising of all. He’s managed to produce a wad of hundreds as thick as the (secret) dildo in his ass. Everyone stares.

“Don’t ask,” says Elton. “What he does in his spare time is none of my concern.”

Willem eagerly looks on at Taron scuffling about with his dildo, turned on slightly which doesn’t hide itself through his tight crotch. Taron unlocks the top of the knob from the dildo and pulls out hundreds of $100 notes and physical coin USB’s containing millions of dollars worth of Bitcoin.

“I’m about to go blockchain on your ass, Judo Man,” hisses Taron.

“Oh fuck yeah,” breathes the Judo Man, licking his lips as he salivates at the thought of all that sweet, sweet dildo-money “This pays more than most of my new films. I don’t know how you fit so much up there, but I ain’t complaining.”

The Judo Man pulls a velcro Thomas the Tank Engine wallet from his back pocket, thoroughly smooshed by the dummy thiccness of his ass against the seat of his jeggings. He snatches the various forms of currency, shoving them into the wallet until it’s bulging at the seams and Thomas’ innocent train face is looking a little worse for wear. He forces it back into his pocket, doing a cautionary mini-twerk to make sure it’s secure.

Elton looks at Judo’s jiggling ass with a curious side eye glare “Oh my god, what i’d do to be squished by the clapping of those ass cheeks”. 

Barry is even more aroused than Elton and Willem combined. “The clap of those ass cheeks has certainly alerted _this_ bee.” His tiny bee hands grasping the edge of his pocket hammock, he peers out at Elton, Willem and Taron, all entranced by the wiggle of Judo’s juicy ass. He flies out, and lands on Elton’s sparkle-encrusted shoulder.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, baby boy?” Elton gives off a long awkward wink at the yellow fuckin dot on his shoulder leaving pollenated stains on his feathers. Barry leaves no time behind, he quickly rips off his stinger and gives it one long hard stroke transforming the stinger into a long hard black thin pencil like cock. Elton nods and pulls off his tail and twirls it to grab the attention of the ultra thicc Judo man in front of them.  
  
Willem Defoe immediately understands what needs to happen, he purses his thin, wide lips and whistles on calling a bunch of metal pumpkin heads to fly in from over the building ahead. They seemed okay until everyone realised that each and every one of them have genitals dangling from underneath them, they glide in impaling all nearby civilians to enhance the sexual tension drive coming from every bystander nearby Ringwood Station. Taron has already ejaculated on Eltons leg 4 times, leaving his testicles drier than the Murray River will be in a year when Scomo has shoved his Adani-cock straight up the Great Barrier Reef’s gaping ass and destroyed the environment. 

Whilst all civilians in the premises are cumming, Judo man looks around with high anticipation and an eager sexual frustration drives through his core, heart racing, the muskiness of sweat and cum fills the air as his hard core erection throbs for lust, his eyes widen at the thought of whats about to cum besides Taron exploding for the 5th fucking time. 

What’s about to take place is better than any damn pizza ever could be, no matter how garlic-laden and delectable. Just then, the sound of pan-pipes and a faint wind chime washes over the scene, momentarily calming the horniness of the group. Keanu steps forward. “In my younger years I would happily have partaken of the fruits of the loin, but I have discovered since that both your libido and your dick drop off when you reach the age of 117 so I’ll just watch.”

Keanu pulls out a box of assorted Tim Hortons donuts and settles himself on an abandoned washing machine to take in the impending glory. He then pulls out his Wild Stallion branded megaphone with Matrix transcripts written all over it in green coloured font and begins to order the rock fucking hard rapscallions around. With a flick of Barry’s pencil dick and a jab at Elton’s leg for the hundredth fucking time, everyone is on the fucking edge of explosion, ready for Lord Keanu’s permission to begin what is about to unfold.

“Are you ready kids?” Keanu shouts.

“Aye aye Capnadian!!” respond the sexually poised band of fuckwits.

“I can’t hear you!” 

“AYE AYE DADDY REEVES!” they all say with such high amounts of sexual frustration the veins in their necks and their dicks bulge almost to breaking point.

“Ooh WAH AH AH AH” Keanu’s voice drops aggressively and everyone begins headbanging along with the heaviest riff ever created by the one and only bold headed metal goateed Britney Spears. “Oops guys, guess I did it again. I swear I didn’t mean to start an orgy, it just keeps gosh-darn happening, eh.”

With a swish of his finger and a flick of his dick, everyone edging drops very quick. The dot in the dirt was fucking around, unbelievably erect, for someone’s foot had decided to pound. The owner of the foot was none other than the Judo Man, who had taken to stomping just as fast as he can. He was tapping in time with his intense wrist flick, pulling his hand up and down his enormous, hard dick.

Everyone else looks on in awe, the Judo man tenses, giving the dot lock jaw. He wonders why he can’t cum, he looks over at Taron and thinks “hm, what scum”. Time passes by and still not a drop of honey, the dot is exhausted, and has a sore widdle tummy. The group look on with pure boredom, they wanted the cummie but all they got was full frontal pure bee-pollinated-Judo-dom.

Elton raises his leg high above everyone, in hopes of splattering all with his thick, hot pre-cum. Spinning his body around like a beyblade on heat, he suddenly stops and shows the whole group his feet. They all cry out in ecstasy at the sight of his soles, and all of their dicks turn into massive poles.

Barry B. Benson, as lucky as one can bee, flew over to Elton’s foot and stung it with glee.

Just then Elton gives off the loudest shout, shocking the audience. “You fucking bee-cuck, do you know how much Doggy Taron cum I’ve had to lotion on these perfect soles to make a crowd fucking cum in an instant?”

Barry aggressively talks back with fury and antagonising sexual aggression: “You can’t just cheat your way for attention! I nearly had Judo spraying harder than the Mafia sprayed that pansy Marlon fucking Brando in The Godfather!”

“Cunt, because of your tiny fucking size, you had no idea I was limp dicked the entire time!”

Judo man interrupts.

Barry looks back at Judo with disappointment and pure fucking sadness in his watery bee eyes. “You mean...I wasn’t...jerking bee enough?”

“Of course fucking not,” Judo angrily responds.

The others have already fallen asleep whilst Taron is delicately stroking Daddy Elton’s sole, desperate for solace against the Judo Man’s harsh words. The air thickens and the sky clears, pure spunk scent fills the oxygen around them. No one truly knows if the night finished with success or pure defeet. From that day on climaxing was a thing of the past, had Frollo truly created an undesirable fake admiration for the lust of cumming? Only the Judo man remains on earth with the gift of being able to release his pure hot smoking desires over his most precious needs. Judo did in fact made it back before his pizza was spoiled rotten, but never could he order Italian food again. Was it loss? Or success? No one knows...Ringwood station lives again. The sweet, sweet aroma of cum never fully departed the station, and shall forever serve as a reminder of the fateful events that took place that one balmy summer’s eve.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry


End file.
